


The Naturalist's Bedfellow

by lookupkate



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 1800s, ADVENTURE!, Adventurers, Anal Sex, BAMF John, Boys In Love, Bugs & Insects, Ex army John, Falling In Love, Idiots in Love, Internalized period-typical homophobia, M/M, Naturalist AU, Naturalist!Sherlock, Oral Sex, Period-Typical Homophobia, Sherlock Holmes is Bad at Feelings, Strange injuries, outdoors
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-23
Updated: 2014-09-22
Packaged: 2018-02-18 11:42:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2347277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lookupkate/pseuds/lookupkate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft Holmes has to live with his brother being a naturalist. It is a highly viewed vocation after all. What he doesn't have to live with is his brother going off on his expeditions alone. Not anymore. No, now he has the perfect person to send along, one who is strong and level-headed. Someone who will, no doubt, watch after his brother and hopefully guide him just left of danger. </p><p>Sherlock Holmes prides himself on his scientific mind and will not slow down his search for bugs and insects for anyone. </p><p>John Watson nearly lost his life saving a beetle for a colonel. Although he brushed it off it stands as an example of what he would do for the man he chooses to follow. Look who he's following now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Naturalist's Bedfellow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yarnjunkie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yarnjunkie/gifts), [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> I'll research what I can for this, but if the dialogue sounds off remember I wasn't alive in the 1800s.
> 
> The idea (and many facts) came from the book The Species Seekers by Richard Conniff

It was the summer of 1809 when the shorter of the two men was brought back from war. He'd been injured whilst trying to save some specimens for his commanding officer. The injury spelled the end of his military career, though not the battle of Acaniz. (That would take much longer to end, something that set his commanding officer's findings on the back shelf. That's another story though. Back to our short comrade.) 

He was a short man, yes, but let's set that aside and focus on his other qualities. He was clever, not as clever as the taller of the two, but still. He had strong arms and a broad chest and could bear more than his fair share across his back. He'd dragged men out of the range of fire and stood shoulder to shoulder with lads twice his size. 

His bravery was just the right kind of stupidity, his last act proving the prudence of his placement next to the taller man. The beetle clutched in his palm was never wrenched from him, never left behind. He kept it through the medical treatment and had mind enough to label its location on the battle field and the time of day it was found before sending it to the family of his commanding officer. He had the piece of mind to do all that even after almost bleeding out on the ground. 

The last thing that convinced Mr Mycroft Holmes he would be perfect at his brother's side was what he was heard saying while recovering in hospital. 

"I wouldn't have almost died for a beetle myself, mind you, it was at the behest of Col. Dejean. He always did seem a bit off, but then again, most of those types are." John had told a fellow army man while taking his rest. 

Mycroft had decided then that the small, no, compact man would be perfect for his brother and he set about recruiting the him without his brother knowing. 

\-----

Sherlock pulled himself free from the large man's arms and dusted himself off, his bad temper being shone bright as day. He held it aloft like something with which to light the way, waving it back and forth at anyone who might happen by. 

"That's quite enough, you brute! I can show myself in!" He growled at the man, the man who was just doing his job. 

The man nodded at an unseen character, the elder Holmes, and walked from the room. 

"Hiding in the shadows, brother? I shouldn't expect more from you I suppose." Sherlock drawled as he went to pour himself a brandy. 

"How was your trip?" Mycroft asked as he drew deeply from his pipe, the red tip of it the only sign of where he stood along the dark wall. 

Sherlock's eyes lit up and he sat himself at Mycroft's desk to tell his tale. 

"You wouldn't have believed it, Myc!" He said with a childlike glee. "The denseness of the tundra allows one to hide with such accuracy that the local wildlife walks about without notice. How many times I saw two animals coupling as if in perfect privacy!" 

The last bit was said with a far away look that could only be called reminiscence. Mycroft let his eyes roll back into his head as he went to draw himself a glass of brandy. Dealing with his brother's affectionate obsession with nature always pushed him to the drink. He let the boy talk for almost an hour before giving him a sigh that said well enough that he should wrap it up. 

"I was close to the find of a lifetime when you called me back. Took the local boy days to find me. I hope it was worth it." Sherlock finished, reaching and taking the pipe from his brother's lips. 

"I've found you a companion for your next trip." Mycroft said as he sipped from his glass, taking on the demeanor of a man not expecting a disagreement. 

"I have no need for a companion! I've told you this time and time again! I won't be bogged down by some woman and the family's wish for more Holmeses. If you want a brood you'd do best to find some poor woman yourself-" Sherlock began. 

Just then, after Mycroft pushed the lever on the bottom of his desk that ran to a bell in the hall, an army man walked through the door. Sherlock was caught up in viewing the lad and found himself at a loss for words. The man stood calmly in front of him, brown as a nut, and held his shoulders back. For a moment Sherlock glanced back and forth between the man and his brother, wondering if Mycroft had found out his secret. 

"Sherlock, this is John Watson. John is just back from the army and looking for a job." Mycroft said with a small up-turning of the lips. 

Sherlock stood and walked around John in a small circle. He looked him up and down, even leaning in to sniff once, the way one would when presented with a stuffed curiosity. When he finally stepped back John wondered if the peculiar man was not a bit dizzy from his gawking. 

"Acaniz. How did you enjoy the bloodshed?" Sherlock asked as he unfurled himself to his full height. 

"I was there as a doctor, sir. The bloodshed follows me wherever I choose to practice." John said with a straight face. 

This seemed to give Sherlock pause. It lasted only a second. 

"And what if I told you that you were unwanted on this expedition?" Sherlock pressed on. 

"I would tell you that my wages will be paid whether I am wanted or not." John replied. 

Sherlock looked to Mycroft, who only nodded, and then back to the rugged soldier. 

"You will carry all my things." Sherlock said, chin held high in the air. 

"Yes, sir." John replied. 

"And sleep in the mud if I ask." Sherlock added. 

"Yes, sir." John said solemnly. 

"And you won't speak unless spoken to." Sherlock prodded. 

"No, sir." John replied. 

Sherlock turned back to Mycroft and scrunched up his nose, letting his face show his discomfort with the proceedings. Mycroft held his hand out and, once given his pipe, ushered the men out.


End file.
